


Watcher's Plaything

by OverexcitedDragon



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: e118 The Masquerade (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Martin gets fucked up in so many ways, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, This fanfic has lived in my head rent free for over a year, Victim Blaming, Violent Sex, You're Welcome, now I give it to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverexcitedDragon/pseuds/OverexcitedDragon
Summary: Martin has a duty to fulfill, and he's willing to let Elias Bouchard violate his past in order to get it done.Except his past isn't the only thing Elias violates.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Watcher's Plaything

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by @JavaJowgie. Go read her fanfics she's a FANTASTIC writer
> 
> There's a lot of copy paste dialogue from the Actual Script in the very beginning but I changed and added enough to it that HOPEFULLY it's still transformative LMAO
> 
> I'm in the Martin Blackwood Gets Off On Being Abused club and I WILL spread my agenda

“Are you listening?”

The question was directed at the tape, but Martin was well aware of who-- _what_ was really on the other side. He took a deep breath, and let himself smile.

“Good.”

And it started.

Martin didn’t plan on getting much further than one or even two statements, but he was surprised with how long it took for the brisk knock on the locked door to finally be heard.

“Martin, open the door.” Elias demanded. There wasn’t panic in his voice, though, more like a stiff disappointment.

“Sorry Elias, I can’t hear you. There’s a door in the way.”

“Martin, I do _not_ have time for this,” came Elias' stern voice.

“Then maybe you should _make_ time.”

“Unlock the door. _Now_.”

“I thought you had a key…” He was teasing now, not just wasting Elias’ time. It was a dangerous game, but if Martin was about to be traumatized willingly, he might as well have fun with it.

“ _Martin._ ”

“I’m not going anywhere…”

One last frustrated knock, and then Elias stomped away.

There was a special satisfaction to messing with such a powerful man, and Martin couldn’t help but revel in it… while he was able to. He knew the fun wasn’t going to last long.

Elias came back quickly enough, yet too slow to save another statement.

“ _He-llo?_ ” Martin sing-songed.

“ _What_ are you doing?” The man barked out. He closed the door behind him and walked up to Martin, eyeing the pile of burning paper in the trash can by the desk before staring sharply at the assistant.

“That one,” Martin started, spinning in Jon’s shitty office chair to properly face Elias. “That was Benjamin Hatendi. You weren’t fast enough with the key!” And he was _smiling_ , because the man looked _furious_.

“ _What. Are. You. Doing._ ”

Elias’ full attention was on him now. _Good_.

“Oh, I’m sorry, can you not just _look_ into my head? Read my mind?” He scoffed. “Too busy trying to keep an eye on everything?”

Elias paused, watched Martin with determined, and clearly enraged eyes. The man was shorter than Martin, but stature never stopped Elias from looking down on him every moment they were in the same room. Belittling him, treating him like a _whiny brat_.

“Tell me what you’re doing, and why.”

“Oh, I just thought I’d, you know,” Martin picked up another statement from the pile. “Drop a couple ideas in the suggestion box. Turns out my suggestion is…” And he set it ablaze with the lighter, tossing it in the pile of ashes. “ _Fire_.”

The sigh that came from Elias’ lips sounded almost like a father’s disappointment.

“And yet you haven’t set the whole Archives alight. So I assume this is… what’s it called? A _cry for attention_.”

“Maybe I just thought it might hurt.”

“No more than you’re hurting yourself by acting out.”

Martin gritted his teeth, felt his blood boiling, because of course, _of course_ Elias would treat him like a kid, a whiny, bratty child waving his arms around begging for attention.

“Oh, so that’s it, isn’t it?” He spat out. “Martin’s just _acting out_. I mean, Daisy’s a _rabid dog_ , and Melanie’s a _potential killer_ , Tim’s a _rogue element,_ but _Martin_ ,” He stood up, and it felt good, _fantastic_ to look down at Elias. “Oh, Martin’s just _acting out._ He’ll have a _cry_ , and a lie down, and feel _much better_.”

He could see Elias’ jaw clenching, and yet the man’s tone was still calmly stern. “And if you’re trying to convince me otherwise, then you are failing. Now if you’re quite done, I’m _very busy_.”

“Oh, sorry,” Martin rolled his eyes, let a smile creep over his lips. “Sorry I’m not-- I’m not keeping you from the show, am I? Well, you head back, I’ll keep myself busy here. Albrencht Von Closen is next, I think. He’s quite an old one, should go up very quickly!”

He shuffled through the papers on the desk, hearing a heavy sigh behind him.

“Did Jon put you up to this?”

“You think I’m doing this for him?” He couldn’t help the resentment that coated his words.

“No. It’s just the sort of half-baked scheme he’d come up with, and I am well aware that you’d do just about anything for him.”

Martin paused. Froze, really, and turned around to retort-- anything, _anything_ , but the words wouldn’t come out, and his face was steaming red, because how _dare_ he pull out feelings from Martin’s heart like that--

“I don’t need to read your mind for that one.” Elias smiled.

And that was bad, because Elias was in control again. It had been much too quick, not nearly long enough, and Martin needed something else to keep him busy.

“Do you really--” Martin started. Paused. Took a deep breath to recompose. “Is it so hard to believe I hate you as well?”

“No. It’s just hard to believe that you would _act_ on it.”

“You think I’m, what, _blind?_ ”

“Oh, no,” a chuckle, mocking. “You’ve made that quite clear.”

“So… what? I don’t get to be angry? I don’t get to burn things? Just run around, making tea, while everyone else gets to actually _have feelings?_ ”

“Martin, please get to the point.”

“Maybe there isn’t one! Alright…” It was dangerous, that swirl of emotion, of anger and frustration, of _resentment_ in his heart. Made him careless. “Maybe--”

“Maybe you’re just wasting my time.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

It was the wrong answer. He was aware of it.

“I see,” Elias clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “That puts me in a difficult position.”

“Good.”

“You might want to turn the tape off, Martin,” He said, _ordered_ , crowding Martin against the desk menacingly. “Wouldn’t want Jon to hear this, now, would you?”

Martin did so, shaky fingers tapping on the big red button, only to watch it bounce back down.

“Sorry. Looks like it wants to know what’s going on.”

“Hm, a pity,” Elias sighed. “You know Jon listens to all of them,” he said, and it was more like a warning than a statement.

“What, you don’t want him to hear you big, evil speech?”

Elias smiled at Martin, sharp, dangerous, and Martin wondered if there was a bit of the Hunt in his boss, if he could smell his fear.

“Just wanted to spare you the small amount of dignity you have left.”

There it was, the threat he was waiting for, the moment of humiliation, and yet Martin wouldn’t let himself be taken down so easily. _Dignity_ … 

“ _Dignity?_ Right, yeah,” He gritted out, finger jabbing at Elias’ chest, fury coating every word like poison. “Like the dignity of being trapped in your flat by _worms_ , or sleeping in the Archives clutching a corkscrew, or fetching drinks for the _thing_ that murdered your friend without you even noticing. Laughing, at all their little jokes, then being led to wander impossible corridors for _weeks._ ”

“Are you done?”

Elias looked _bored_.

“ _Not_ even _close._ Because, I--” He took a moment, a breath, _composure_. “I’ve been thinking… it’s not like you got this all-seeing thing recently. You’ve had it the whole time. I remember the way you looked at Sasha after the attack. You _knew_ it wasn’t her. And I reckon you knew Prentiss was lurking under the Institute, too, and you did nothing. Why?”

Martin was out of breath, reckless in his words and tired of the ache. He slammed a hand on the desk, but he was the one that flinched. “ _Why?_ ”

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Elias took a deep breath.

“What, like with Melanie?” Martin murmured. “Just that _perfect_ bit of information to leave me a wreck?”

“Yes. Quite.”

“Well, I hope you have something better than that pathetic dig at my feelings for Jon.”

He hoped dearly, he truly did, that wasn’t a lie. Martin was yelling and spitting out curses, and yet his legs shook with the fear of having his heart played with. _Jon doesn’t love you, doesn’t even care for you_. He knew he would hear, and it would tear him apart.

“It’s baffling, really,” Elias scoffed, _mocked_ him. “Such loyalty, and to someone who really treats you _very badly_.”

“Oh, is that supposed to be, what, a revelation?”

It wasn’t. Martin was well aware. Every time he walked into the Archives, every time he exchanged words with Jon, he could feel the disdain, the _neglect_ , digging at his chest with every tea cup he placed before the man, hoping for a mere glance at him, and rarely getting even that.

“You know, I really should have gone for that,” Elias shook his head, looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Found something that would finally manage to shatter that precious image you have of him. But, as you say, I am _very_ busy at the moment. So I suppose I’ll have to go with what I had prepared.”

 _Prepared_.

“Do it.”

“Your mother,” That’s all it took, and Martin’s breath caught in his throat. “She’s always been… difficult, hasn’t she? You take care of her for years, feed her, clean up after her, and now, with her condition degrading even further, _she_ is the one that asked to be moved into a home. To have it left to the nurses. _She’s_ the one that refuses your visits.”

Elias crowded him against the desk, chest flush to his, and the height difference only accentuated how powerless Martin was no matter how tall he stood above Elias. This man was looking up, and yet staring him down like a filthy rat.

“She’s-- she’s always been--”

“Strong willed? _Stubborn_ …?”

Elias’ breath was coffee and cigar, and his words were thick with poison and _joy_. He was having _fun_.

“No. No, Martin,” It was almost a coo, dripping with pity. “You _know_ the reason. Your mother simply _hates_ you. You just don’t know why.” His lips were closer now, grazing at the foot of Martin’s ear, sending shivers down his spine, _nauseating_. “It’s not your fault, though I know that isn’t any consolation. Just bad luck, really. How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine? When your mother began to sicken, and he decided he was done with you both. Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, _especially_ when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. She never recovered from that betrayal. He just tore her heart right out and took it with him.The thing is, though, Martin. If you ever _do_ want to know _exactly_ what your father looked like… all you have to do is look in a mirror.”

Martin hiccupped, tried and failed to swallow back a sob, and shook so violently he had to grab the edge of the desk to hold himself up. Elias’ body was warm against his, almost _comforting_ amidst the chill in the room.

“Would you like to know what she sees when she looks at you?”

It was a whisper in his ear, and Martin barely had the time to process the words before the images and feelings _flooded_ into his brain, into his very being. Broke into his body like water through a dam and chilled his veins like ice.

He _wailed_ , groaned, head falling onto Elias’ shoulder as his breath caught over and over and the panic attack was right around the corner. The images, all from _her_ perspective, made him want to throw up… 

Being held down, choked, violated, raped within an inch of his life by a man who looked just like him.

A smile-- a _smirk_ , really, looking down at him while hands slipped under his skirt and fingers shoved themselves where they didn’t belong, in public, right in front of his family. Humiliating him.

The slapping, hair pulling, punching, the pain and the knowledge that every time that man drank, the evening would be painful and he would be left ragged and sore.

Martin heaved on Elias’ shoulder, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t the horrifying memories of his mother. The feeling of soft cotton, the smell of Elias’ cologne, the warmth of his body. Martin hated himself, looking for comfort in a bed of spikes, and yet it was all it took to keep him from losing himself.

Martin tried desperately to speak, to voice his distaste, tell him to _stop_ , to go _fuck himself_ , but the time it took for him to recompose was too long, and Elias’ hands quickly manhandled Martin, turned him around, cruel fingers tangled in his hair and bent him over, slammed his forehead hard against the desk, and he _felt_ it, Elias’ crotch pressed flush against his arse, and the man’s body lowered over his.

“But you have known how it feels to be hated _all_ your life, haven’t you, Martin?” Elias murmured, lips touching the arch of his ear. “Your boyfriends, all cruel daddies that used your body like a toilet, bent you over backwards and cracked every bone they could get their hands on.”

“No…” he tried, a sobbed plea, but it was useless.

Another slamming sound, but the pain came much after the noise, and he realized his head was now bleeding over the desk, and Martin _had_ to have a concussion at this point--

“Don’t pass out on me quite yet, Martin,” Elias tutted him, fumbling with his belt. “We’re just getting started, after all, you’re _enjoying_ this.”

Martin gasped, groaned, “No, no, _no, no… no, please_ …” uselessly pushing away Elias’ hand as his pants and briefs were haphazardly pushed down.

 _“That’s_ your biggest fear, isn’t it? That every ounce of abuse you have suffered, you not only _deserved_ , but _enjoyed_ ,” Elias chuckled. He shoved fingers in Martin’s mouth and coated them poorly with spit and snot, one hand still firmly holding the boy’s head down against the desk.

“No, _phlease, id’s not_ …” he babbled over a mouthful of thick fingers, sliding over his tongue and fucking his throat.

But it was, as much as he would like to deny it. And Martin hated himself for it.

“You’re not in love with Jon because you think he’ll love you back,” Elias cooed at him, almost sweetly, as he pulled his fingers out and then immediately slid them roughly into his arse, and it was painful, _sharp_. “It’s because you think that when he finally notices you, when he _finally_ decides to rape you, like _everyone_ else you’ve loved, it will feel just as good as all the other times.”

“No, no… stop, _no…_ ”

The fingers slipped out too soon after barely stretching him, and Martin heard that tell tale sound. Familiar and horrifying. Belt buckle, zipper, a ruffle of fabric, and then the feeling of thick flesh pressing hard against his hole. His mouth fell agape, drool and blood pooling under his cheek as he groaned, sobbed, whimpered.

“The truth is that you’ve enjoyed it every single time, haven’t you? You’ve begged them to stop, cried and screamed like a pathetic little victim, but the whole time you were in absolute _bliss_.”

Martin felt him slide home, bottom out, thick and invasive, sharp pain reverberating through every cell of his body, and he _wailed_.

“Go on, Martin, tell me, tell _Jon_ how much you’ve _enjoyed_ being violated.”

In the state he was, it was barely any effort to be compelled. Martin’s garbled words spilled almost immediately, coated in tears and snot, in whines and bile, as Elias started fucking him hard and fast, ruthlessly.

“I… did… I enjoyed it all… every _second_ of it… every time it happened… I-- _hnn_ , I chose them all… because I knew their exes… _I knew_ they’ve done it bef-- _ahn_ \-- I knew they’ve raped their exes… the more red flags-- _ahhn, fuck_ … the _better…_ ”

His jaw clenched so hard Martin felt like his teeth would shatter. There was no strong enough word for the feelings of joy, pleasure, horror, and hatred, all mixed together in a stew of his own blood and spit. There was no accounting how his body reacted, how his hips bucked and his back arched with every painful, sharp thrust.

“How deranged, how _disgusting_ ,” Elias chuckled, the grip on Martin’s hair so tight he might start pulling scalp. “But don’t you worry, Martin, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll fuck you like you deserve.”

“Please, _stop, Elias--_ ”

Another slam, another hit of his forehead against hardwood, and the noise was concerning this time, the blood certainly too much, but Martin couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the feeling of being fucked _raw_ and _hard_.

“ _You…_ were made to be _taken_ , not loved,” Elias hissed. “You act like a brat so daddy will finally give you attention, _finally_ touch you even if it hurts.” The thrusts were so deep Martin’s stomach churned, nausea setting in, yet it was almost _comforting_. “You don’t even know the difference between affection and rage. You’ll tell everyone you hate me after this, but _you’ll come back for more_.”

“ _That’s not--_ ”

“Tell me, Martin, _tell me_ , then, do you hate this? Do you _truly_ hate this?”

“ _Hhhnn… no_ , no, no _, no, I don’t-- I don’t… aahn…_ ”

“Good lad. And will you come to me again? _Hmm?_ Are you going to come to my office, _begging_ to be raped? _Answer me, Martin_.”

“Ahh-- Elias, no-- I…”

“ _I said, answer me._ ”

Martin breathed in, breathed out, and practically vomited the words. “Yes-- _yes, yes, aahn…_ yes, I’m-- I’ll-- I’ll go back _, fuck, Christ-- I’ll go back, please…_ ”

The feeling of his cock bobbing beneath him, useless and untouched, while Elias took him hard and fast and _raw_ , while his blood pooled on the desk under him, while his insides were scrambled and rearranged with every thrust-- the hatred, the filth, the _pain_. Martin was close to losing it, to climaxing from that alone.

“Tell Jon, Martin. _Tell him what you are._ ”

“I’m-- _ahh, ahnn, fuck-- I’m…_ I’m a useless…” and he choked on his own spit, heaved and coughed.

“Go on, don’t keep him waiting, or do you want me to _stop?_ ”

“ _No--_ no, I-- _ahh_ … I’m a useless, good for nothing, _filthy-- hnn… filthy whore_ …”

“That, you are. And what else?”

Deep, hard, nauseatingly pleasurable. He might have passed out from being fucked alone.

“I just want to be-- _fuck, Christ, I-- I just want to be raped_ …”

“And that’s all you’re good for. That’s all your worth. A hole. A useless, _filthy_ hole.”

“Yes-- _yes, please, god-- ahhn, please…_ ” Martin wailed, moaned so loudly he was worried for a moment Melanie might actually hear.

When the orgasm hit him, he was sure he blacked out for a moment. For a couple seconds, Martin’s whole body seized as he spilled untouched, and his brain felt soupy, useless, turning off and on, as if every one of Elias’ thrusts woke him from a deep sleep, over and over again.

Martin hiccupped, giggled, fingernails scratching at the wood obsessively while his body was rocked by the relentless fucking.

“Good,” Elias cooed, chortling like Martin was the most entertaining play he had ever watched. “Good lad. And where do you want me to cum?”

He hadn’t stopped fucking Martin, even when his arse was sore, even if he was probably bleeding, Elias didn’t even pause.

“Ins-- _hnn, inside, inside, ple-- please…_ ”

“Oh, Martin,” Elias tutted. “Too bad. You don’t deserve the decency of having your arse filled.”

Elias pulled out, and Martin _whimpered_ at the loss, but his complaint was cut short by the man pulling him back, away from the desk, and onto the ground, back flat against the furniture. His droopy head was kept up by the tight grip of Elias’ fingers, and for the first time he saw the man’s cock right before his face as Elias pulled at himself, fisting the head of his prick slow and rhythmically.

His first thought was that Elias’ cock looked pretty.

His second thought, however, was that he should close his eyes.

And just as he did, he felt the strings of warm, thick cum coating his face, dripping down his cheeks and chin, and Martin couldn’t resist licking his lips, tasting salt and sweet, and _moaning_.

“There you go, now,” Elias sighed. “ _That’s_ what you deserve. And what you _want_ , too. Maybe I was too kind on you, Martin.”

Martin opened his eyes just in time to see Elias’ fingers wiping off the cum. His mouth fell slack immediately because he knew what that meant, he knew what he _should_ do. Martin licked Elias’ fingers clean, suckling on them desperately as he looked up with devotion at the man who had just violated him.

“There. Now,” Elias murmured. Immediately, the grip on his scalp tightened and the other hand clasped against Martin’s neck, choking him so hard he was _sure_ his windpipe would break. Martin could only wheeze as the man hissed sharply in his ear. “ _Don’t burn any more statements_.”

Elias released him, and Martin coughed desperately.

He watched Elias quickly tuck himself back into his pants and walk away, closing the door behind him while Martin still dry heaved, barely conscious. A bloody, soupy mess on the Archive floor.

 _Useless_.

There was a minute of silence, of _respite_ , and then Melanie walked in.

“ _Mart--_ oh my god. _Martin, oh my god--_ ”

“Don’t. I’m fine. _Do not._ ”

He knew the drill. _But he hurt you, but look at you, but, but, but_. That wouldn’t get them anywhere. He did his part, distracted Elias, got humiliated and assaulted in the process, but he _did his job_. Martin Blackwood _did something useful_.

“Do we have what we need?” Martin asked, slowly, _slowly_ pushing himself up, shaky hands pulling his pants back on, zipper, belt…

“I… I think so, yes…” Melanie murmured. She was frozen at the entrance, just _staring_ at him and there was pity in her eyes and Martin wanted to gouge them out. “H-he didn’t even have a safe, just a few locked drawers… it was-- it was easy…”

His jacket was enough to clean the blood and spunk off his face, and he hoped dearly he didn’t need stitches.

“We need to leave.” Martin said, finally.

“We need to kill him,” And there it was. The pity. The knee jerk reaction that he dreaded. “ _Look at you_ , look what he _did to you_. He _needs to die._ ”

“No-- Melanie. Please. I knew-- I knew it was going to be something like this…”

“He raped you, didn’t he? He beat you and _raped_ you, Martin, that’s _not_ what any of us thought this was going to be. It’s not just for _you_ , if we leave him alive and he does this to someone else, to _you_ again, _Martin_ \--”

“ _Melanie_. Melanie, _please_ , just… let’s just go. _Please._ ”

There was a moment of silence in which Martin was terrified, because Melanie looked like she would either scream her whole way to Elias’ office with a gun, or accept Martin’s suggestion with resentment.

Thankfully, it was the latter.

“Fine. Okay. Let’s--let’s get these somewhere safe. And let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me @ overecteddrgn I'm like an artist or smth


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